Aiding Neville Longbottom
by CatRocks
Summary: HPDH Snape's anger, Fawkes' misconception, and Neville's antics. oneshot SPOILERS


Cat: Hey all. I wrote this because I couldn't find Fawkes anywhere in the 7th book. Incase you missed the notice in the summary, this does have spoilers. But I hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Does anyone know where I can get it though?

Snape was already ill-tempered when it happened. The Carrows siblings had just left his office. That meant that he had been forced to play the part of faithful Death Eater before the judgmental eyes of the previous Headmasters surrounding him. It also meant that they were having a problem. As usual, that problem took the form of Neville Longbottom.

Throughout his years of teaching the boy, Snape had never liked him. In his first year Longbottom had repetitively failed in his potions, forgetting even the most crucial of ingredients. His second year had been no better, revealing that he had very little skill in any of his classes and marking him as nearly a squib. It had been in Neville's third year when Snape decided that he hated the pathetic child. The boggart incident had caused nothing but misery for the potions master. The other teachers had mocked him without mercy and any respect that the students had held for him was instantly gone. Then, Neville's fourth year, when Snape had thought that Longbottom could not possibly do anything worse, the boy had become good friends with Harry Potter. It was that year that Snape decided he hated him. Then for the next two years Neville had done nothing to reverse that feeling, causing more and more trouble and accompanying Potter on all of his escapades.

But this year Longbottom had taken it to a new level. He seemed to be under the impression that with the absence of the rest of his group—that childish organization that called themselves an army—he needed to carry the torch for the rest. On almost a weakly basis Longbottom was caught or suspected of another petty crime—from jinxing the title of every single textbook to say "Support Harry Potter" to convincing the house elves to celebrate the birthday of Albus Dumbledore. For what Snape perceived as eons the two Carrows siblings (accompanied occasionally by Filch) attempted to sway him into allowing corporal punishment. Snape had, of course, resisted. At least, he had until Neville escalated the situation.

The stupid boy had released a dozen boggarts in the castle. This undeniable reminder of Snape's humiliation was taking the pranks too far. The Headmaster had instantly reinstated Filch's favorite forms of detention. He suspected that one of them was being used to retaliate against Longbottom's latest deviation from the rules.

As far as Snape could discern from the excited ramblings of the Death Eaters, Neville was being punished for classroom behavior this time. The Muggle Studies class had been asked a question, which the room had met with silence. Longbottom had then raised his hand and announced to the room that Hermione Granger (Undesirable No. 2) would have known the answer. Snape wasn't entirely sure was punishment he'd agreed to allow—he been up all night giving the Dark Lord a status report on the goings on at Hogwarts and it had left him irritable and with a splitting headache.

Gratefully, the room was silent now. Snape lay his head down on the large mahogany desk, intending to follow the example of those Headmasters that surrounded him and take a short nap. Everything was quiet for a moment, his mind falling gentle into darkness.

Until there was a mistake made.

Fawkes, feathers brilliant red and yellow despite the failing conditions at the school, gave a soft call. It was one that Snape had heard before. Though he hid it, it was a sound that Snape dreaded even more than footsteps outside is office or even the slither of the Dark Lord's faithful snake. It was a sound that was meant to be comforting. The foolish bird believed what he was supposed to—what Dumbledore had.

Fawkes thought that Snape had killed Dumbledore as a favor to the old man. But he hadn't. Fawkes thought that Snape would never have hurt him if it weren't for the wizard's instructions. But he would have.

And he would have done it for a simple, selfish, reason. He needed to stay close to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had killed Lilly. Dumbledore couldn't save her. He wasn't brave enough or smart enough or powerful enough. And that meant that Snape needed to put his faith in someone else. As much has it physically pained him to do it, Snape had put all his trust in Harry Potter.

But Potter had never managed anything without help. Usually it was from his two best friends, but as the stakes grew even Potter had admitted that he needed more help and had recruited Longbottom, Lovegood, and the younger Weasly girl. Later he had even been forced to seek aid from his teachers. To defeat the Dark Lord he would need someone else—someone on the inside. Even the aging Dumbledore had recognized that. So Snape had killed him for the same reason that some many Death Eaters had tried previously—to gain favor with the Dark Lord.

And yet that stupid bird didn't know that. It valued his "sacrifice" and pitied his position.

Pity had always been the one thing that Snape couldn't handle. It was this detest of that emotion that had cost him Lilly—insulting her when she had come to rescue him from the Marauders. And it was that detest that fueled his next actions.

Before he recognized it, Snape was standing. One hand was on the cool metal handle of a nearby cabinet and the other rested on the outside of it, against the smooth wood. He yanked the door open, the motion rippling through his arms. He knew then exactly what his limbs were reaching for and grabbed it without hesitation.

The runes and engravings beneath his fingers were the only thing that Snape could feel. Several of the portraits had snapped to attention at his actions, but he couldn't see them. In his rush to turn around Snape bashed his knee against the corner of his desk, but he wasn't aware of it. Outside there was a break in the snowfall, allowing the castle to see blue sky for the first time in days. But Snape didn't know that either.

Before his eyes was red and gold, shimmering a little bit. The overhead lights cast little shadows under some of the feathers. A wing twitched, the entire body moving in a ripple from that tiny motion. Feathers changed position but replaced themselves neatly and the phoenix lay its head slowly down.

Without sound, clear tears of despair found their way onto unfeeling steel, the rare magic falling uselessly and the bird lying powerlessly.

Snape replaced Godric Griffindor's sword into the cabinet and fell numbly back into his seat, staring at nothing.

Fawkes' bright feathers seemed brighter now, and glimmered with unusual light. Blood slipped around the beloved and well worn perch, forming dark puddles.

The great bird was dead.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Neville knew pain. He was well used to the Cruciatis curse by that time and he'd taken dozens of beating for his disobedience at school. He had expected that a curse from Voldemort would hurt more—but it didn't really. It hurt, certainly, but not as badly as it should have. He was on fire, the flames burning downwards through the beloved Sorting Hat to injure the students that it was so dedicating to aiding.

However, as Neville lay in motionless pain, surrounded by the terrified screams of onlookers and fellow students, the hat whispered one last phrase—one of the most cryptic that it ever had.

_Your Headmaster sends phoenix tears._

Neville felt something firm thump him on the top of the head. The flames instantly went out—their power to inflict pain stolen. Neville felt relief flush his system, old wounds and newer ones closing and healing over as the powerful magic struck him.

Snape's great rage was now his salvation.

Cat: R and R please!!


End file.
